And prompt from all just words to draw a train
Of deep insidious ills, why this attempt?
Why seek again t' ensnare me, where I most,
Should grieve to be ensnared? In days long past
When with domestic miseries o'erwhelm'd
765
My sickening soul in exile would have joy'd,
765
Then to my wish this grace didst thou deny.
But when my soul was glutted with its grief,
And in my house it had been sweet to rest,
For ebbing then I found my former rage,
Then didst thou drive me forth an outcast thence,
770
Nor was this near affinity of blood
Dear to thee. Now again, when thou didst see
This state benevolent to me, and all
Its race, dost thou assay to drag me hence,
Filing thy tongue to smooth thy harsh attempts.
Why this delight to show thy courtesy
775
When most it is unwelcome? If to thee,
What thy wants crave requesting to obtain,
One should give nothing, nor e'en show a will
To grant thee a supply; but, when thy soul
Enjoys its wish e'en to the full, would give,
When the slow favour all its grace hath lost,
780
Wou'dst thou this worthless pleasure wish to gain?
Such is to me thy offer'd grace, in words
Pretending good, but hateful in effect.
Nay, I will tell it these, that I may show
Thy baseness: hence to draw me thou art come,
Not with leave granted to possess my house,
785
But to be stabled on your confines; thus
Your country should be guarded from the ills.
Fear'd from these realms. This never shall be thine;
But thine shall be those ills; for in that land
My vengeful spirit always shall reside.
Nor of my kingdom shall my sons share more,
790
Then to die in it. Seem I not to know
Better than thou the destined state of Thebes?
Much better, as by more unerring guides
Instructed, Phœbus and his father Jove.
Yet hither hast thou brought that treacherous front
795
Harden'd 'gainst shame: but that fine-filed tongue
795
Shall work thee woe, not safety; be assured
With me thou never shalt prevail : begone,
Let us live here; not ill we here should live...
E'en as we are, could we delight in life.
Oedipus at Colonus. Sophocles. Robert Potter (Translator). London. 1820.